


Fortune Favors [ARCHIVED]

by Rhiannon87



Series: Some Sort of Crazy [ARCHIVED] [1]
Category: Uncharted
Genre: Action, Adventure, Drake's Fortune, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 12:39:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiannon87/pseuds/Rhiannon87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If fortune truly favored the bold, Elena’s pretty sure Nathan Drake would be swimming in cash. Series of scenes set in and around Uncharted: Drake’s Fortune.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the original version of the fic. It has since been revised/rewritten. The new version can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6362824/chapters/14574802).

Elena smirks triumphantly as she clambers over a fallen pillar. And her producers had said the tracking device would be a waste of money. She’d met men like Drake before, and she trusted him and his sleazy partner about as far as she could throw them. Drake had been so distracted by her wetsuit-clad form that he’d never noticed the small tracker she’d stuck to his shoulder holster.

Jackass thinks he can take her money, blow up her boat, and leave her behind? He owes her. She’ll get a story out of this one way or another.

She checks her GPS again. It looks like she’s right on top of Drake. Elena frowns and tucks it back into her pocket, warily scanning the underbrush. The thing’s only accurate to about fifty meters, and in the middle of the jungle, that doesn’t help much. “Great,” she mutters. “Just great.”

There’s a series of distant, muffled popping sounds. Elena frowns and cocks her head to the side, instinctively reaching a hand to the pistol at her hip. Whatever that is, it doesn’t sound good. She inches back towards the wall of the ruined temple and waits.

Only about a minute passes before she hears the clear sound of someone running headlong in her direction. Drake bursts out of the underbrush and into the clearing, eyes wide as he twists around to look over his shoulder. Being pursued, then? He almost runs straight past her; Elena reaches out and grabs his arm as he goes by.

Drake yelps and swings around to face her, drawing back a fist to strike. Elena instinctively readies a punch as well, elbows up, just the way Dad taught her. “Whoa there, cowboy,” she says. Drake lets out a sigh of relief, and, well, her dad also taught her to take any opening she can get in a fight. Elena’s punch lands just under Drake’s left eye; he yelps again and staggers backward, clutching his face. “That’s for leaving me at the dock!”

“What are you doing here!?” he hisses.

She rolls her eyes. “Listen, I'm a good enough reporter to track a couple of no-luck tomb robbers--”

Drake’s eyes go wide for a split-second before he tackles her against a pillar, his body pressed against hers and his hands planted on the stone just over her shoulders. Elena blinks at his chest in bemusement for a few seconds before finally raising her eyes to his face. Drake’s not even looking at her; his head’s turned, eyes narrowed as several heavily armed men rush past, shouting at each other.

Oh. That would explain the popping sounds and the running. Great.

The men disappear from view. “Well, you're down to one tomb robber now,” Drake says, voice low and eerily flat. “Sully’s--” He cuts off abruptly, jaw clenched, and he’s still close enough that Elena can feel him shudder. “They shot him,” he says and steps backward.

“Oh, god,” she breathes. She really shouldn’t have punched him. “I’m so sorry.”

He just shakes his head. “We need to get out of here,” he says in that same flat voice. “Please tell me you have a gun.”

Elena’s a little surprised he didn’t notice it when he was pinning her to the wall with his body, but he clearly has other things on his mind. “Yeah,” she says and hands it over. He’s a better shot than she is, anyway. 

“Thanks.” He checks the clip and nods to himself. “Grab one for yourself off the first one of these bastards I drop,” he says. “C’mon.”

Elena nods and follows after him. Well. This just got a hell of a lot more interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

“Got it.” Drake taps the map in front of him. “Right there.”

Elena leans over the table, camera in hand, and peers at the spot above his finger. “The middle of the ocean?”

“There’s gotta be an island there,” he says. “It’s not too far off the coast—there’s hundreds of little specks out there, too small to show up on a map. But that’s where Francis Drake went.”

“With the treasure.”

“With the treasure.” Drake gives the map a crooked smile and folds it back up. “Right. I’m gonna top off the fuel in the plane, and then I’m taking off.”

Elena raises her eyebrows. “That had better not be the sound of you trying to leave me behind again, Mr. Drake.”

“No, I just—I didn’t want to assume that you’d want to come along.”

“Are you kidding me?” Elena says. “You’re going after El Dorado. Even if there’s nothing there, this will still be one hell of a story.” She might even be able to stretch it out into a two-part episode, if she gets enough footage.

Drake chuckles. “Fair enough.” He stands up from their dockside table and half-turns, looking as though he’s about to speak. Then he snaps his mouth shut and swallows hard.

Elena winces and sets the camera down. “Hey,” she says, coming around to his side of the table. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he lies. Obviously. “I just—the sooner I kill the bastards who—I just need to see this through.”

Getting into a plane with a grieving, homicidal treasure hunter who’s chasing after El Dorado is probably the stupidest thing Elena’s ever done. But sensible decisions don’t make for good ratings. Besides, life’s short. She might as well have a few adventures along the way. “Well, then,” she says, leaning over the table to grab her camera. “Shall we, Mr. Drake?”

He chuckles. “Nate,” he says. “Just Nate’s fine.”

“All right.” Elena hooks her camera to the clips on her belt and gestures at the dock. “Lead on, Nate.”


	3. Chapter 3

Elena shakes her head, flicking droplets of water across her shoulders, and trails Nate across the ruined courtyard. “I can't believe that worked,” she says.

“I know,” Nate says. “You've said that. Several times, actually.”

She rolls her eyes. “I still can't decide if you're insane or brilliant.”

“I like to think I walk that line every day of my life.” Nate grins at her as he crouches down by one of the fresh corpses. “Ah, good. Think fast!” He wings a full clip of pistol ammo at her; Elena manages to catch it with only minor fumbling.

“Thanks.”

Nate just smiles without remorse as he straightens up and heads for the gate. Elena indulges in a bit of shameless ogling while he's distracted with the winch; that ratty shirt is doing nothing for what must be some spectacular abs, but at least his jeans are flattering. She averts her eyes and pretends to be interested in the rapidly setting sun when he turns back.

He stomps through the open gateway, and Elena follows close on his heels. The last thing they need is to get separated. “This was a big mistake,” Nate says with a sigh.

Elena laughs. “No kidding,” she agrees. “You know, I should've turned _before_ the bridge.” With a weary sigh, she drops down on a collapsed pillar. Her legs are killing her. She goes running most mornings, but there's a definite difference between 'jogging on an L.A. sidewalk' and 'spending close to ten hours scrambling around a forgotten settlement.'

Nate manages a weak laugh in response and turns away from the crevice he was inspecting. “Heh, very funny.”

She rolls her eyes and glances at the sky again. It's getting late. This place is not going to be pleasant in the dark. At least her camera has night-vision-- oh, right, the camera. Nate. She waves at him and holds the camera out. “C'mere, I wanna show you something.”

“That thing still works?” Nate asks.

“Uh-huh.” Solar-powered and waterproof. It's pretty much indestructible. She finds the clip she wants as Nate sits down beside her. “Check this out.” She hits play and narrates as the film runs. “Okay, see this building in the harbor? That's where all the boats going into the colony would've unloaded their cargo. So if the El Dorado treasure came to this island, it would've had to have come through here.” It's not much, but they've long since lost the trail. That might be exactly the lead they need.

“Wait a minute, what—what was that?” Nate asks. He reaches around her to grab the small screen. 

“What?”

“Rewind it.” Elena hits the button. Maybe he saw something she missed? Some clue to the treasure? He did do this for a living, he probably-- “Wait, stop.” She pauses it on a close-up of a speedboat in the harbor. Nate taps the screen. “Right there. That's our ticket out of here, c'mon.” He jumps to his feet and heads for the jetski.

“Our ticket outta here?” she repeats incredulously. “Are you giving up?”

Nate stops and turns back towards her, his hands twitching at his sides. “Maybe you hadn't noticed, but we're kind of outnumbered,” he says.

Elena rolls her eyes. “We're doin' fine so far,” she replies. She hits fast-forward on the camera again, running it back to the end of the current footage.

“I don't need your bullet-riddled corpse on my conscience, let's go,” Nate snaps, gesturing at the jetski with both hands.

“Oh, please,” she retorts. This is just insulting-- she's made it quite clear that she can handle herself. Hell, she's the one who saved _his_ sorry ass after he got captured. Captured while unnecessarily trying to rescue her, in fact. She doesn't need a white knight and it's pretty obvious that he's no good at it. “You quit if you want to, but don't use me as an excuse.” Elena looks back at her camera, thumb hovering over the stop button.

Nate lets out a bitter laugh and turns away a few steps. “Fine!” he snaps abruptly. “It's me, okay? I am quitting. Are you coming or not?”

“So that's it.” Elena hits stop and stands up to face him. “You're just gonna forget about the treasure and forget about Drake?”

He bares his teeth in a mirthless grin, shaking his head, then steps toward her. “Goddammit, this is not worth dying over,” he says, voice tense. He looks a lot like he did when she found him in the jungle, right after Sullivan died, and Elena gives in.

“Okay,” she says, searching his face. As soon as she agrees, he relaxes, and she sort of feels bad for pushing him. “Okay.” Nate looks away, hands on his hips, still radiating tension. Elena steps towards him and peers up into his face. “Listen, either way we have to head back to the harbor,” she points out gently. Nate doesn't respond, and she smacks his arm to get his attention. “Don't worry about it,” she says with false cheer. “We can argue about it later. It'll be great!”

She all but skips past him towards the jetski. “Wait,” Nate says. Elena stops and turns back to face him, smiling innocently as he half-glares at her. “This time, I drive,” he declares and stomps past.

Elena blinks. “Oookay.” She's gonna have to convince him to find somewhere to hole up for the night. He's getting cranky. Maybe a nap would help. She clips her camera to her belt and follows him to the jetski; she has one hand on his shoulder to hop on when she notices something on the ground. “Oh, hey!” she says, hopping back to shore and walking over. 

Nate raises his eyebrows. “Is that a grenade launcher?”

“Yep!” She climbs on the jetski and settles the weapon across her thigh. “Could come in handy.”

“Let's hope not,” Nate mutters and starts the ignition.


	4. Chapter 4

Funny. She'd have thought a man with Nate's career path would have recognized the 'swear to tell the truth' gesture. Maybe he's never been arrested in a country where they bother with that sort of thing.

Elena rolls her eyes and pans across the harbor again. There's gunshots to her right, and she steps back enough to watch Nate's progress across the broken bridge. He's almost to the other side; a hail of bullets zip through the air, and he jumps, colliding with the door and rolling out of sight. She lets out a relieved breath. At least he made it that far all right.

She gets a few more minutes' worth of scenic stock footage before she hears the unmistakable sound of a helicopter approaching. “Oh, shit.” She ducks back against the wall, hopefully out of sight, and watches as the chopper swoops past, heading west. Elena hesitates for a moment, then creeps forward, crouching down behind the railing, and aims her camera at the landing site. There are people milling around, a few of them moving towards the helicopter, and she zooms in for a better look. There's a dark-haired man leaning out of the chopper, while two older men walk towards it. They reach the ladder, and--

Elena almost drops the camera in shock. “Oh, my god.” She watches as the helicopter takes off, then swings up towards the mountains. Right. Now she just needs to tell Nate. She walks over to the balcony, peering down to the shallow, rock-filled water below. It's not that far of a jump. She can make it.

“Okay.” She makes sure everything's secure-- camera, gun, watch-- and backs up to the far edge of the balcony. Then, with a running start and an undignified shout, she leaps.

She finds Nate at the dock. He's crouched behind a low wall, pistol out, clearly ready to spring out and take on the large group of pirates single-handed. Going by the trail of bodies she went past getting here, he'd probably do all right, but this should change his mind about leaving. She slides in next to him, keeping her head out of sight, and smiles brightly. “Hey.”

Nate does a literal double-take, and were it not for the pirates behind them and the Very Important Footage on her camera, she'd probably start laughing. Elena holds out the camera. “You really need to see this,” she says.

“Now is _really_ not the best time,” Nate replies. 

He turns away and starts to move out of cover; Elena grabs him by the holster and drags him back down. “No, Nate--” 

“What are you doing?” he grinds out.

“You really need to watch this.” Nate looks around the edge of their cover again, and Elena grabs his wrist, holding him in place while she shoves the camera at him and hits play. 

Nate grunts in annoyance but takes the camera anyway. “What?”

Elena puts her finger on the pause button, watching the screen. “Aaaaaand...” On the screen, Victor Sullivan turns, looking straight at the camera for one second. Elena hits pause and pokes at the screen. “Hello!” Nate stares at the camera for several long seconds. “He's alive,” Elena says, uncertain if that fact has actually sunk in yet.

“Huh,” he finally says and absently holds the camera out to her. Then he laughs, the sound escaping for a moment before Nate claps a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god, he's alive,” he says, the words muffled by his hand. He slowly drops his hand and smiles at nothing, shaking his head slightly. “Sully's alive...”

Much as she hates to rain on his parade, there's a rather significant issue with this whole 'Sullivan survived being shot in the chest' thing. “I don't know, Nate,” Elena says. “I mean-- how much do you trust this guy?”

“With my life,” Nate says immediately.

Elena sighs. “It's not exactly like they're holding him at gun-point--”

“I-I know,” Nate says. “It-- seems weird.” He leans around the edge of their little half-wall just as the boat takes off. With a sigh, he gets to his feet and shakes his head. “No. Sully's a lot of things, but he's not a backstabber. He wouldn't betray me.” He pulls out his map and unfolds it, spreading it flat on the top of the wall. “Which way were they headed?”

She hesitates, mentally translating what she'd seen from the balcony onto the map. “Uh... north-ish,” she says, tapping the map. “Yeah, towards the mountains.”

“Okay...that's gotta be the monastery.” Nate refolds the map and exhales heavily. “Let's go!”

“Um...” Elena hurries after him. “What if it turns out he's working with them?”

Nate whips back around towards her. “He would _never_ \--” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Look, we either rescue him, or we beat the crap out of him.” He pauses for a moment. “Hell, I might just beat the crap out of him anyway. Either way, we have to find him.”

It's the sort of proclamation that leaves no room for argument. Elena just sighs and follows him up the stairs.


	5. Chapter 5

It turns out that waiting to be rescued from zombies is really, really boring.

Elena sighs, staring up at the ceiling from her position on top of the table in the middle of the room. Nate's been gone for about half an hour; at first, she'd been all nerves, jumping at every sound and staring at the metal door, waiting for those _things_ to smash it down and come pouring through. But eventually they'd wandered off, and after the constant adrenaline rush of the past few days, Elena found herself unable to relax.

Hence the lying on the table-- she'd hoped that if she assumed a restful position, she'd actually get some rest. So far, it hasn't worked.

“Come on, Nate,” she mutters. “How long can it take to climb across a secret Nazi base past a bunch of zombies and mercenaries to turn on the power?”

If this was a movie, Nate would have chosen that moment to swing back in the window while checking his watch or something. Then again, if this was a movie, she'd probably have bigger tits and be way less useful. Elena smirks at the ceiling and shakes her head. Nate'll come back soon enough. She's just gotta sit here and not get eaten by zombies. Simple enough.

_Thud._

Elena bolts upright and scrambles for her gun. Shit, shit shit shit, no, there is no way she can hold off those things, not with her pistol, not in here-- Nate barely managed to stay alive and he had a small arsenal's worth of weapons at hand, she's got nothing-- Elena looks over at the broken window. Try to make the jump, or try to fight off the zombie things?

“Get this damn door open!”

She blinks. Well. That's not a zombie. That's some kind of poncy Brit. Roman, she guesses, based on Nate and Sully's descriptions of him as, well, a poncy Brit, among other, less flattering things. Something thuds against the door again, and the metal dents inward. “Shit.” Elena glances at the window again. No. Even if she could make the jump, she'd practically have a target painted on her back, hanging out there without cover.

She can't survive a shootout and she knows it. That leaves surrender. She swallows hard and tries not to shudder. The men are focused on other things, they won't... they won't do anything until they've got their gold. They'll treat her as a spoil of war, and she'll be able to escape well before things get... unpleasant. 

The stone around the hinges cracks, and Elena winces. She rolls off the table, keeping it between herself and the door, and aims her gun at the door. She might be surrendering, but she's not an idiot. She takes a deep, calming breath, and then the door bursts inward, revealing a group of black-clad mercenaries with machine guns. There's a moment of silence while they all stare at each other.

Naturally, that's the moment when the elevator beeps.

Elena sighs. She's going to have words with Nate about timing once she sees him again.

“Put down the gun,” Roman says, stepping to the front of the group. “I would so hate to see a lovely creature such as yourself unnecessarily ventilated.” Ugh. Slimeball. Elena sets the gun on the table and slides it over; Roman smiles, looking like nothing so much as a snake, and gestures to one of the men behind him. “Navarro, see to her. We need to move. Drake's still in the base. We have to eliminate him and Sullivan before they cause any further disturbances.”

The dark-haired man she'd seen in the helicopter comes over and grabs her arm, then yanks her toward the elevator. “I'm coming, Christ, ease up a little,” she grumbles.

“Shut up, girl, or I will--”

“Wait.” Roman's looking back at the window. “Oh, this is too perfect. Bring her back, I want him to see. We’ll stall him while our men move into position.”

Elena's eyes go wide as she sees Nate in the other control room. Oh, shit. Navarro shoves her up against the control panel, right next to Roman. Nate presses his hands against the glass and peers at them, and even at this distance, she can see his face fall. Roman clicks on the microphone and leans forward. “Can you hear me in there?” he asks. Nate says something, but it doesn't reach them. “Oh, no microphone on your end,” Roman continues. “Such a shame--”

They’re distracted. It’s probably her only chance to warn him. Elena elbows Navarro in the stomach and lunges forward to grab the mic. “Nate, get out of there before--”

Navarro grabs her by the scalp and yanks her backwards, then all the air goes out of her lungs as he socks her in the stomach. She doubles over on the console, coughing and gasping for breath. No one's holding her, but there's no way she could run, not like this. 

“Navarro, if you can't maintain control over a small girl...” Roman's rolling his eyes, she can just hear it.

“It won't happen again.” A hand grabs her arm and yanks her upright, and she groans, still unable to breathe. Then Navarro shoves the barrel of his pistol into her neck; Elena freezes, eyes wide, her breath coming in muffled, wheezing gasps. 

Roman continues to taunt Nate and informs him that he'll be 'holding onto Miss Fisher' as insurance, then he clicks off the mic and turns around. “Bind her hands,” he snaps. “If she gives you too much trouble, leave her for those beasts.”

Navarro chuckles darkly and tosses a salute in Nate's direction. Elena twists around to look back at him; Nate's face twists in rage and he slams his hands against the glass just before Navarro drags her out of view. “Hands behind your back,” he says. “And don't struggle. I'd hate for this to get physical.”

Elena suppresses a shudder as he ties her wrists with a length of rope. This is going to make escape a bit more difficult. But she'll figure out something. She has to.


	6. Chapter 6

It’s a long trip back to Panama. Sullivan’s stolen boat isn’t all that fast, and the enormous pile of gold weighing it down probably isn’t helping their speed any. Elena sits in the back and watches the stars come out; it’s been a long time since she’s been someplace where she can see so many. Nate joins her, after a while, and they try to find constellations—an activity which, Sullivan informs them, is much more traditionally romantic.

Elena’s not sure that ‘romantic’ is exactly the word she’d use. If Sullivan didn’t have a clear view to the back of the boat, she’d probably have her tongue down Nate’s throat and her hands under his shirt, sweat and grime and blood be damned. But the last thing their first kiss needs is a running commentary.

First kiss. She snorts softly and shakes her head. That implies there will be others. Nate's-- well, he's a good man, underneath the ego and staggering moments of sheer stupidity. He's charming in spite of himself, funny and smart and very easy on the eyes. Watching him climb around all those cliffs and walls... she'd be lying if she said she was not deeply interested in getting him naked.

But beyond that? She's got no idea. She likes him, and he seems to like her. Respects her, even, and she gets the sense that's not something he offers lightly. He doesn't seem like the most stable person, though. Reliable only in the sense that he'll have her back in a firefight.

Nate’s starting to doze off beside her, and she smirks to herself. She’s probably overthinking it. Get back to dry land, take a shower, fuck Nathan Drake’s brains out. Worry about what comes after, after. Elena leans her head against Nate’s shoulder and lets her eyes close. Until then, she may as well get some sleep.

It’s still dark when she wakes up. Elena groans and buries her face in Nate’s chest—wait. She blinks, taking stock of her position. She fell asleep sitting next to Nate, not lying halfway on top of him. “Are you awake?” Nate stage-whispers.

“Sorta.” Elena halfway sits up, unable to move very far with Nate’s arm around her waist. “Wasn’t I…?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah.” He shrugs. “This seemed more comfortable.”

It is, actually. She smiles and leans in to kiss him before she can really think about what she’s doing. It’s not much, just a light brush of her lips against his. Nate blinks at her, then grins and puts his hand on her shoulder, drawing her back in for a proper kiss. It’s not the best kiss Elena’s ever had—their lips are chapped and salty, and the rocking of the boat knocks her against him in a way that’s more awkward than sexy—but it’s still good. There’s potential there.

Sullivan whistles at them, and Nate rolls his eyes. Elena snickers and shakes her head. “I’m going back to sleep,” she says and settles back against his chest.

Nate wraps his arms around her and sighs. “I'll wake you when we see land.”


End file.
